


I Have Your Secrets

by osaki_nana_707



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Crush, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osaki_nana_707/pseuds/osaki_nana_707
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillipa has a crush on Arthur. Cobb is not amused. Eames is. Arthur is just confused. Ariadne thinks it's cute. It's complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Znam twoje sekrety](https://archiveofourown.org/works/892825) by [Prus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prus/pseuds/Prus)



> This was the second Inception fic I ever wrote, so apologies if it's not very good. Written in October 2010.

**I Have Your Secrets**

Part One

_The first time she saw him, she was barely three years old. Her father had invited him to Thanksgiving dinner, and he arrived on time, on the dot, dressed impeccably. She didn't notice any of this at the time, considering how young she was, but she was fascinated by him immediately. After all, being two years before kindergarten, she had yet to really lay her eyes on other people. Maybe she occasionally saw someone when her father took her with him to the supermarket, but this was different. This was a new person, a non-family member, in her home._

_Her daddy had told her that his name was Arthur. He awkwardly shook her hand like she was an adult and said, "Nice to meet you. You must be Phillipa. Your dad told me a lot about you."_

_Phillipa smiled because she loved it when her dad told people about her._

_Arthur was quite a sight to see. He was a bundle of nerves, a mish-mash of nervous smiles, tense shoulders, and unnecessary politeness. He was constantly calling her mother "Ma'am" even though she insisted he called her "Mal" and apologizing for his rudeness, even though he never said or did one single rude thing. It was okay, because her mom found it "cute and charming." Her father was insistently telling him to relax, and he'd apologize for not doing so._

_…and go back to being tense and uncomfortable. He was so determined to make a good impression._

_After dinner, her father had gone to tend to James, who was crying, and her mother was washing the dishes since she couldn't stand to leave them in the sink. Grandmother was helping her mom, and Grandfather had fallen asleep on the couch, and so Phillipa was the only one who got to see._

_Arthur had retreated out into the foggy late afternoon, staring out into the backyard from the back porch. Phillipa was underneath the kitchen table, peeking out the glass door at his back, and he kept looking back, as if afraid someone was going to catch him._

_It wasn't surprising. After all, it didn't seem much like him._

_He was… smoking._

_She watched in wonder while he brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled, brought it down to his side, and let smoke drift out from his nostrils and mouth… and his shoulders slumped, and he sighed, and all the tense, uncomfortable feelings that she'd defined him with were gone._

_And he kept checking to make sure no one saw._

_He never spotted her, and she never told anyone. Not Mom, not Dad, not even Grandpa (she'd never tell Grandma because she loved to ruin her fun and wouldn't even play along for a little while). She decided right then and there that she wouldn't tell anyone because it was… special._

_It was her secret. Hers and his. She liked the idea of having that secret in her heart._

_And she liked him._

* * *

Eames figured it was mean, but sometimes he really wished Cobb would shut the hell up about his kids.

When he'd heard that Cobb had gotten back into dreamshare (no one could abandon it forever), he'd been thrilled because if anything, working with Cobb was amusing (understatements were fun). The moment he'd needed a forger for a job close to home, Eames jumped at the chance. He was looking forward to a fun job, and screwing with Arthur was always fun too. Even Ariadne was back as an architect (curious, considering Cobb had more or less gotten over his 'problem,' but to each his own).

How disappointing it was to find that it was a run-of-the-mill job! How devastating it was that Cobb was no longer fun! All Cobb did was talk about how Phillipa was doing in school, or the cute things James was doing, and blah blah blah. The worst part was that Arthur let him do it, and Ariadne egged him on with all of her 'awwws' and giggles. It was unbearable.

The only redeeming quality of the job was that Cobb had offered to let the three of them stay at his place, so he didn't have to spend his nights in a hotel room.

The foursome had headed back to his home for lunch that afternoon, and Eames finally found something with which to entertain himself.

"Phillipa's grades have been slipping lately. I don't know what's wrong," Cobb was saying to Arthur as they entered the home.

"You know how kids are, Cobb. Christmas is coming up, so she's probably more focused on her gift list than her grades. She'll be fine."

Eames rolled his eyes, bombarded with photographs of said Phillipa and of James all over the walls. Parents were way too obsessed with their kids, and Cobb was no exception.

"I don't know, Arthur. She's always been bright for her age. She isn't the type to get distracted by things like that."

"She's still a kid," Ariadne offered, opening the fridge as they entered the kitchen. "Do you guys want me to make sandwiches?"

"You could always just talk to her," Arthur said. "She should be upstairs, right?"

"Miles took them out to pick out their Christmas gifts for this year."

Eames took a seat at the table, rolling his eyes again. It was then that he noticed Phillipa's girly backpack sprawled on the table, with a matching girly pink notebook sticking halfway out of the pocket. Curious, Eames grabbed the corner of it.

"I don't know what could get her so distracted. I worry that it might be something to do with me. You don't think she resents me for going back to work, do you?"

"As long as you come home every night, I'm sure she's fine," Ariadne replied.

"Oh my God!" Eames cried out, bursting out with laughter.

"Have you gone insane?" Arthur asked, deadpan as always while he spread mustard on his bread.

"I have not, my dear Arthur. I do believe that I've discovered Phillipa's problem, though."

"Is that so?" Arthur asked.

Eames nodded, biting his lower lip to avoid cackling again.

"Well, what is it?" Arthur asked, already growing bored of Eames's game.

Eames handed Cobb the notebook. "Take a look."

Cobb stared at it for a moment. Squinted his eyes. Widened his eyes.

He was not amused. Eames was. Arthur was just confused.

"What's the big deal?" Ariadne asked, snatching the notebook from Cobb. A smile broke out on her face almost immediately, and she looked at the boys meaningfully. "This is so cute."

"What's so cute?" Arthur asked, becoming more and more annoyed that he was the only one who didn't know the answer when he was the one who had asked the question.

"Apparently you are," Eames answered, and Ariadne showed him the notebook. "Look at that," Eames teased, voice mockingly sugar-sweet, "Arthur and Phillipa 4-ever. She even put a big glittery heart around it."

Arthur stared at it as long as Cobb did, but instead of growing agitated, reasonably flushed.

Eames and Ariadne both laughed.

"I can't believe this," Cobb grumbled, snatching the notebook from Ariadne and putting it back in Phillipa's backpack.

"Oh, relax, Cobb, it's just a crush. All little girls get them," Ariadne giggled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Why the hell would anybody have a crush on you?" Eames asked Arthur, wiping away tears from laughing so hard.

Arthur huffed, tugging on the bottom his sweater. "Says the man who calls me 'darling'."

Eames shrugged off his retort, completely unaffected.

"I think it's sweet," Ariadne said because of course she would. She was a girl, after all.

"Arthur's way too old for her to like him," Cobb said.

"It's a school-girl crush, Cobb!" Ariadne laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. "Lots of girls get crushes on older guys. It doesn't mean they're weird. They just admire them. When I was in the fifth grade, I had this art teacher, and he… was so handsome… I wonder whatever happened to him…" She drifted off for a moment before shaking herself out of her stupor.

"I had a handsome art teacher too," Eames said, winking at her.

"Can we focus here?" Cobb asked. "What am I going to do about this?"

"Let her have her crush," Ariadne said. "She's a kid. By next week, she'll be in love with… Marco…who sits in front of her in third period math…"

"Are we still talking about Phillipa?" Eames asked, and Ariadne blushed.

Arthur took his sandwich and sat down. "You never once assumed that the Arthur she's referring to isn't me? Maybe there's a kid in her class named Arthur that she likes."

"What kind of horrible parent would name their kid something terrible as Arthur?"

"Go to Hell, Eames!"

"I bet the Devil's name is Arthur."

Arthur elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Just then, Miles' car pulled up in the drive, and within moments the sound of children entered the home.

"Daddy!" James exclaimed as Cobb swept the boy up in his arms. "I got a robot! And a thing that does this thing, and it makes bugs. Not real bugs though. They're slimy though, Daddy."

"You didn't get too out of hand in buying them things, did you Miles?" Cobb asked.

"It's my job as a grandparent," Miles responded unashamedly.

Phillipa came in, beaming, in a pretty red dress that Miles had bought for her. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was carrying two new books, and she had a camera hanging from a cord around her wrist.

"-and, I got a rocking horse!" James finished listing off the things he'd gotten.

"What am I supposed to get them for Christmas now? Even Santa's not going to know," Cobb laughed, watching Phillipa from the corner of his eye as she set the books down on the table. "What did he get you, Phillipa?"

"This pretty new dress, and _Charlotte's Web_ and _Matilda_ , and a new digital camera since my old camera doesn't work anymore."

"Oh, yeah, you gave her that camera two Christmases ago, didn't you, Cobb?" Arthur asked.

She turned at the sound of his voice, even though she'd obviously already seen him there. Eames and Ariadne exchanged glances.

"Hello, Mr. Arthur. Do you like my dress?" She asked, and the look on her face was priceless. Ariadne had to hold back going 'awww' again.

"It's a lovely dress," Arthur replied.

"I picked it out because I really like the color red. You like the color red too, don't you?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you have a lot of red ties, and that dice that you always have with you is red."

"You noticed that?" Arthur asked.

"I've noticed lots of things about you, Mr. Arthur." And she batted her eyelashes. Oh, how she could bat her eyelashes.

There was no denying it. Phillipa was completely, utterly, undeniably in love with Arthur.

Cobb bristled over the idea. Arthur's face couldn't decide whether to blanch or to redden.

"Well, this should be fun," Eames whispered to Ariadne. "I'm looking forward to Christmas."

* * *

_Arthur came back at Christmas time when she was four. He was perfectly groomed again, and Phillipa complimented him on his red tie. He brought James two Hot Wheels cars, and her a blank photo album. She didn't understand what it was for until her father gave her his gift._

_"How does the camera work?" she asked Arthur while her dad had disappeared into the kitchen with her mother who had been acting strange lately._

_"Oh, see," Arthur took it from her and held it up. "You just point it at what you want to take a picture of, you can see it when you look through this viewfinder here… and you hit the button…" FLASH. "And the picture comes out right here."_

_A blank white picture ejected from the camera, and Arthur shook it and handed it to her. "See?"_

_"That's me!" She exclaimed excitedly._

_"Here, you can try it now," Arthur handed her the camera, and she looked down at his ankles while she did, noticing he was wearing red socks._

_"Can I take a picture of you, Mr. Arthur?" she asked._

_"I'm not really photogenic…"_

_"What's that mean?"_

_"I… I don't look good in pictures. I don't photograph well…" He paused, staring at that look on her face. "Fine."_

_"Smile!" she chimed, and he put on a half-hearted grin, nervous, as if he was afraid to smile._

_She took the picture anyway. "I think you look nice," she told him when the picture developed._

_"Well, thank you."_

_That night she dreamed that he gave her daisies on bended knee, like her father had done for her mom for their anniversary last year._

* * *

When dinnertime rolled around, and everyone was seated, Eames began to wonder how no one had noticed Phillipa's fancy for Arthur until now. It was just so _bloody obvious_ , he thought.

She'd made a great effort to make sure she sat next to him, and all throughout the meal she kept stealing little glances at him, smiling a little wider every time she got away with it. Even Eames was tempted to go 'awww' though mostly because it would be really funny to watch Arthur get flustered again. He imagined Cobb would slam his fist down on the table and leave in a huff.

All Cobb did was glare when Eames chuckled, as if daring him to do something.

"So, Phillipa, how was school today?" Cobb asked.

"Fine," She replied.

"What grade are you in now?" Ariadne asked, throwing Cobb a bone, doing anything to get Phillipa's gaze off of Arthur for a second.

"Second."

"Do you think it's fun?"

"Not as much as being at home. How was work?" she asked all of them. It wasn't as if Phillipa really knew what they did, but since her mother died, she certainly must have felt obligated to ask in her place.

It didn't help that she was incessantly curious on how Arthur's day went, regardless.

"Good," Cobb said.

"Fine," Ariadne said simultaneously.

"Dandy," Eames said, right in tune with the other two.

Arthur didn't say anything, preferring to push his peas around on his plate.

"Are you okay?" Phillipa asked Arthur.

"Huh? What? Oh… Yes, fine."

She stared up at him with her big, olive eyes and then smiled. She leaned up to his ear and whispered, "It's okay. I don't like peas either."

"Uh… yeah…"

She giggled. He regretted that there was nowhere to look that didn't have a co-worker occupying it.

"Well, I'm finished," Arthur said quickly, stood, cleaned off his plate into the garbage disposal, and disappeared into the house.

"What's got him so flustered?" Eames asked the air, as if Arthur could hear him teasing him from wherever he was.

Phillipa looked at Eames, eyes glimmering. She was so full of hope over that statement, the idea that he was flustered over her.

"He doesn't act like that at work," Eames continued, looking right into her eyes. "I wonder what it could be?"

"I'm finished too!" she declared excitedly and left her plate where it was. Cobb retreated after her, ordering her to be a good girl and clean her plate.

"What have you started?" Ariadne asked.

"Nothing that hadn't already started. We need something to do other than listen to Cobb droll on."

James laughed as he crawled down from his booster seat. "Does anyone want to see my new rocking horse?"

* * *

_The night she decided that she loved him was the worst night of her life. Her mother was dead, and her father might as well have been from the way he fell apart. He tried so hard to be strong for her and for James, but the moment he laid his eyes on them was the moment that crumbled that resolve. Miles had taken her father upstairs, and he had yet to come down in two days. There were loud noises, like things being thrown or broken, and moans and wails like that of a ghost, and she sat on the couch and listened from downstairs, wishing she was deaf._

_Arthur arrived within a few hours, and, shockingly, he was not dressed immaculately like he had been the other two times she'd seen him. His slicked back hair was beginning to fall, and his suit was rumpled, tie loose around his neck, from riding on a plane for several hours. His eyes were tired and puffy, but she wouldn't understand then that he'd been crying, not when he'd slathered on his business face._

_"Where is…" he started and decided not to finish the sentence when he saw the look on her face. "How are…" That wasn't a good question either._

_He didn't know what to say, and so instead he took a seat on the couch, dropping his suitcase by his ankles and running his hands through his hair. A few strands fell in his eyes._

_She took a seat next to him and sat there for a few minutes._

_"Where's James?" He asked awkwardly._

_She whimpered, and her composure surrendered, and she sobbed into his shoulder._

_She decided she loved him._

_He didn't try to coo and tell her things would be okay. He didn't put his arms around her and cry with her and pet her back. He didn't say anything… and that was what she needed. She needed a strong, stiff shoulder for her to cry on that wouldn't give way to her tears. He let her cry on him for a full half-hour, and she felt so much better._

_He held her hand at the funeral._


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

_Arthur came back a lot, usually with gifts from her father. It was never good enough, but she was grateful that he would try. He obviously cared about her father a lot to go to the trouble. He even came all the way from Rome to video-tape her playing Wendy in her school's production of_ Peter Pan _._

_"Did you think I did a good job, Mr. Arthur?" she asked as they were leaving with her grandparents, James asleep on Miles's shoulder._

_"You did excellently."_

_"Thank you."_

_He stayed in the guest room that night, and the next night. She tried not to ask him about her father in order not to cause him grief. He'd tell her, even when she didn't ask, "He'll be home soon. I don't know when, I don't know how, but he'll come back to you guys."_

_She believed him. She believed him and no one else._

_Over the course of times that he came and stayed, or even when he just came and visited, she made sure of one thing._

_She got several pictures of him with her Polaroid and kept them in her photo album under her bed. All of his secret faces that no one noticed, little peeks at the Arthur that Arthur was when no one else was around. She even sneaked into his room and caught a picture of him sleeping, hair hanging on his forehead in a mess, dressed in only a t-shirt and pajama bottoms._

_She was particularly proud of her collection and shared it with no one, even though she wanted to._

* * *

"I just… I don't know what to do," Cobb grumbled, staring over his work in the warehouse they were preparing in.

"I told you, Cobb, to let it take its course. Girls have crushes. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"But… it's _Arthur_."

Arthur's eyebrows knitted together at that statement, but he never looked up from his work.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ariadne asked.

Eames was chuckling from his lawn chair.

"It just… bothers me, okay? He's so old!"

"I'm only twenty-six," Arthur said flatly.

Everyone seemed to disregard what he'd said.

"It's not as if Arthur's making the moves on her! Jesus, Cobb!" Ariadne exclaimed, offended on behalf of Arthur who was very much being ignored by all of them.

"I had no idea your first name was Jesus," Eames mentioned.

They ignored him too.

"I know that," Cobb said. "I'm not worried about that, but why- It's… You wouldn't understand. You're not a parent."

"I understand, and I'm not a parent," Eames offered, drawing their attention.

"Oh, really," Cobb said.

"Yes. You would be upset regardless of who it was because the very idea, the very _idea_ that your dearest little daughter would ever lay eyes on another man upsets you just on principle. The first crush leads to the idea of her second crush, her third crush, her first date, her first long-term boyfriend, her engagement, her wedding, her leaving you forever to be with another man. You find that unfair because you just got her back."

Cobb stared at him, looking nearly hopeless.

"Am I wrong?" Eames asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew he wasn't. He was the best forger a person could find.

"Aww, Cobb," Ariadne said sympathetically, her maternal instincts breaking to the surface.

Arthur, who had been surprisingly silent through the whole thing tensed up, fingers clenching into fists.

"So, in other words, all of this trouble is in your head," Eames said.

"Stop worrying," Ariadne told him.

"I don't know…" Cobb mumbled.

"ENOUGH!" Arthur shouted, standing up with enough force to knock his chair over.

Everyone turned to him.

"Arthur?" Ariadne asked. "What…"

"You don't get it, do you? I don't know why everyone's so concerned about you, when I'm the one with the real problem here!" he yelled, throwing a hand in Cobb's direction.

"What's the problem?" Eames asked.

Arthur's shoulders sagged, and he sighed. "Maybe you have to worry about her future, Cobb, but I have to worry about her present."

"What does that mean?" Cobb queried, raising an eyebrow. The other two were just as curious.

Arthur turned away from them, pressing his knuckles into his desk. "I'm the one who's inevitably going to have to break her heart."

All the faces in the room seemed to grow a bit sadder at this realization. Heartbreak was never an easy thing to deal with, and in a seven year old… it was devastating.

"Oh, Arthur…" Ariadne cooed compassionately.

"I still don't know why she likes you," Eames said.

"We've got to find a way for her to stop crushing on you without breaking her heart. It's possible, isn't it?" Ariadne asked, looking around at her co-workers for support.

"It's not impossible, but it's bloody difficult," Eames replied.

"This isn't inception we're talking about," Cobb offered flatly.

"Well, you could always just raise her into being a lesbian," Eames suggested, getting some rather horrified looks from everyone else. "What?"

"I can't believe you would suggest something like that!" Cobb growled.

"What?" Eames defended himself. "Think about it for a moment. If she was, you wouldn't ever have to worry about sweaty, greasy teenage boys ever showing up on your doorstep."

"I-" Cobb started fiercely, but immediately changed his mind, "I don't hate that…"

"You can't raise girls into being lesbians," Ariadne offered in annoyance.

"Yeah, you'll just have sweaty, greasy teenage girls on your doorstep," Arthur reminded. "I can't guarantee you'd be able to tell the difference. All teenagers look the same nowadays."

"I'm going to look into this," Eames decided. "I'll find out why she likes you. After we find out why she likes you, then we can find a way to make her stop liking you."

"I don't like this," Cobb and Arthur said.

"Why? I'm trying to help!"

"Because I don't know if you can manage it without hurting her!" Cobb shouted.

"Because you're insufferable, and I wouldn't trust you around children!" Arthur added.

"You wound me, both of you," Eames sighed, placing his hand against his chest. "I may work in lying, but I also work in people skills. I can handle myself around a child. Just let me talk to her."

Arthur and Cobb looked at each other and then at Ariadne to save them.

She just shrugged. "I mean… it couldn't hurt, right?"

"I don't know," Cobb mumbled.

"That's what we're afraid of," Arthur tacked on at the end.

"Any more in sync, and I'll assume you two are married," Eames groaned.

* * *

_Three days after her dad finally came home, Arthur came by to see how things were._

_Phillipa couldn't say she was as happy to see him as she had been to see her father, but she was still very pleased when he brought her a red balloon (and James a blue one). He seemed stunned when she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed._

_But he noticeably relaxed when she whispered in his ear, "Thank you, Mr. Arthur… I started to think he'd never come back, but you told me he would, and I believed you…"_

_And she felt his long fingers grace her back, and he gave her a small squeeze back and said, "You're welcome, but I didn't really do anything."_

* * *

Phillipa was playing with her dolls when Eames entered her room. "Hello," he greeted, leaning against the doorframe.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Mr. Eames," she greeted, smiling as sweet as sugar.

"Playing with your dolls, eh?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Mind if I play?"

She grinned and handed him one of her dolls. "Okay. You can be the daddy."

"All right," Eames said, getting down on the floor next to her. He played for a few minutes, letting her get comfortable, before he posed the question. "So, I couldn't help but notice… do you have a crush on Arthur?"

She gasped. "Um… well… you promise you won't tell anyone else?"

"Cross my heart."

"Well… um… yes. I like Mr. Arthur a lot. I think I might even…" She giggled, blushing.

Eames put on his best smile. "I had a feeling… but I can't help but wonder, why on earth you would like Arthur. He's kind of… dull and grumpy, right?"

She paused and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that… but…" and she lit up and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You should see him _smile_."

"Smile?"

* * *

_During the night when Arthur was visiting, there was a terrible storm. The thunder rattled the windows, and the lightning lit up the sky like it was daylight. Phillipa wasn't afraid, but she couldn't sleep because of all the noise and went downstairs to get a glass of water._

_There she found Arthur, sitting uncomfortably on the couch, a cup of coffee sitting untouched on the coffee table. He was in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, hair fluffy from being washed and slept in. The room smelled of cigarette smoke, but the empty pack next to the cup led her to believe he'd smoked them all._

_"Hello," she greeted, just as a clap of thunder smacked outside, and he literally jumped up._

_"Shi-" he caught himself, seeing who it was. "Oh… Phillipa. Wh-what, what are you doing up at this hour?"_

_"Couldn't sleep because of the storm. Why are you up? Don't you have to leave early tomorrow?"_

_"Ah, I couldn't sleep either."_

_She nodded, watching him as he reached for his coffee._

_The thunder boomed. He knocked over the coffee cup._

_"Mr. Arthur?"_

_"Oh, ah- I just… I need a towel for a- uh-"_

_"You're not… scared, are you?"_

_"Sc-scared. Me? I'm a full grown man."_

_"So?" she asked, following after him into the kitchen where he grabbed a hand towel to wipe up the mess. "That doesn't mean you can't get scared."_

_"Y-yeah, but I mean," he was smiling nervously while he scrubbed the carpet, "Grown-ups don't get scared of stuff like… well… I mean…"_

_The thunder cracked, and lightning flashed through the sky, and Arthur banged his head against the coffee table corner. "AH, F-" he caught himself. "Fudge…"_

_She stared at those long-fingered hands trembling. "You are scared. You're scared of the thunder."_

_"It's just…" he paused, leaning back against the couch. "It makes me uncomfortable because it sounds too much like…" He didn't finish telling her that it sounded like gunfire because she nuzzled up under his arm and put her arms around his chest._

_"It's okay… When I get scared, Dad or Grandpa or Grandma come and hold me like this, and I feel better. Did your Mom or Dad never do that?"_

_"…No…"_

_His hand stroked the top of her head._

_"I promise I won't tell Dad that you were scared."_

_And she softly sang whatever song she could think of until she felt his hand drop off of her head to the floor. His head slumped against the couch cushion, and she wriggled out from under his arm and placed a blanket over him._

_"Goodnight, Mr. Arthur. Sweet dreams."_

_Arthur couldn't really explain himself to Cobb the next morning, but he didn't seem to mind. Phillipa kept a picture of him asleep against the couch, and the secret she knew about him, as her prize._

* * *

"Am I really that unbearable?!" Eames asked in horror from his lawn chair.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Cobb asked, still irritated at Eames.

Ariadne and Arthur had gone out to get coffee. After they had left, Eames found himself asking the question that had been haunting him since yesterday.

Ever since he had talked to Phillipa, he'd been at a complete loss. As far back as he could remember, he couldn't remember one time, not _one time_ that he'd ever seen Arthur smile. Maybe a smirk. Maybe a slight grin. Never a full-on, all the teeth smile.

"Have you ever seen it?" Eames practically begged Cobb.

The thing was, Cobb had shoved Eames off when he'd mentioned what Phillipa had said before, but as he thought back on it, he realized he'd never seen it either. He pretended it didn't bother him, but now Eames was asking, and he couldn't exactly lie about it to the king of liars. "No, not really, but what's the big deal? Arthur's just… a stony-faced guy."

"But everybody smiles! How is it even… I just don't…" He exhaled, leaning back against the chair. "How did she see it, when we've never seen it? It's like a bloody legend."

"I… I'm sure that we _have_ seen him smile. I just don't remember it right now."

"No way. The way she said it…. You didn't hear the way she said it, Cobb. The way she said it, it's got to be this incredible thing. We would remember."

"It's not Narnia, Eames."

"What the Hell is a Narnia?"

"It's… never mind." Cobb ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

Ariadne and Arthur returned then and while Arthur was putting sugar in his coffee, Eames dragged Ariadne off to the side.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Have you ever seen Arthur smile?" he asked her as if it was a matter of national security.

"Wh-what? Surely, I…" Her eyes darted downward, then up, then at Eames. "I… must have, but… I can't think of…"

"One time," Eames finished.

"Never!" She whispered fiercely, stunned. "Oh, my God."

"Phillipa has seen it."

"Really?"

He nodded. "The way she said it, it's supposed to be impressive to say the least."

"I can't even form him smiling in my imagination."

"I know!"

"We still have to work, guys," Cobb called to them from across the room.

"What are they talking about?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cobb stared at his face long enough to make him uncomfortable. "Nothing."

* * *

_One of Arthur's t-shirts got thrown into the wash by accident, and he'd left it there when he went back to… wherever he was going._

_The shirt was white and had a faded design for some band she'd never heard of, and no matter how many times it was washed, it still smelled like his cologne. She slept in it whenever she could, using it as a makeshift nightgown._


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

_Arthur wasn't an early riser unless he had work to do, Phillipa discovered. She caught him two days in a row beating his alarm clock into submission every ten minutes for an hour before trudging downstairs for a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice._

_"Don't you drink coffee with your breakfast like Dad?" She asked him curiously._

_"Oh, no," he replied simply. "I don't make my coffee until I'm more awake. I like to enjoy it when I'm fully funtio- functioning. It tastes better that way."_

_"Oh." She made a mental note that Arthur appreciated the taste of his coffee. Later, she discovered he liked it with two sugars and just a bit of cream, and he always smelled it before taking a sip._

* * *

That evening, when they all arrived back at Cobb's house, Ariadne and Eames had come to the decision that they had to see all the things Arthur did that Phillipa saw. In fact, they were especially determined to see him smile.

And so, Eames proposed to Arthur, "I think you should spend time with her."

"Why?" he asked warily.

"I don't know exactly what she's so crazy about when it comes to you yet, so I want to observe secretly."

"And I'll help," Ariadne added.

"Basically, you're going to spy on her and me."

"Pretty much."

"…Jeez, how complicated can it be to figure out why she likes me? Don't answer that question."

"All you have to do is be nice to her! I don't see what the problem is."

"The more attached she becomes to me, the more difficult it's going to be for her to get over me."

"Or maybe she'll realize how dull and grumpy you always are."

Ariadne giggled. Arthur grumbled.

Miles was with the children, all of them hanging ornaments on the Christmas tree. Soft carols were playing on the radio in the background.

"Welcome home!" Phillipa greeted cheerfully. She was practically glowing over being free for Christmas vacation.

"Hey, you started without us," Cobb said, acting hurt.

"Sorry, Daddy. We were excited," James told him.

"It's all right," he assured him, smiling and tousling his hair. "I'll put the star on top."

"Do any of you want some cocoa? The snow is pretty intense out there," Miles asked.

"I'll just fix some coffee," Arthur said.

After he left, Eames following behind to get a cup of cocoa, Ariadne started helping hang ornaments with Phillipa.

"So…" she whispered. "I couldn't help but notice that you have a crush on Arthur."

Phillipa glanced at Ariadne, grinning. "I knew Mr. Eames couldn't keep a secret."

"I guess not," Ariadne said sheepishly.

There was a moment of silence.

"So, what's this smile of his like exactly?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Phillipa teased.

Ariadne smirked. The little girl was a little crafty. She could see a bit of Cobb in that glint of her eyes.

"Oh, come on, we're both girls. Why won't you tell me?"

"Well… I could tell you… but it's one of my special secrets."

"Special secrets?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm. I have a collection of special secrets about Mr. Arthur. If I shared them with you, then they wouldn't be mine anymore."

"Surely you can part with some of them, right? I mean, it's hard to keep a secret."

"Well, I'll tell you one of my secrets as long as you tell me one of yours."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know yet. Let me think about it."

"…Okay, then."

Ariadne didn't tell her she'd be willing to hand over her entire diary to find out Phillipa's secrets. She was just that curious (and her life was boring anyway).

In the kitchen, Eames plopped marshmallows into his cocoa while Arthur started the coffee pot. He came to the realization that Arthur really knew his way around Cobb's kitchen. "You stay here quite a lot, don't you?" he asked.

"I suppose you could say that. It's better than spending all my nights in hotel rooms and apartments. I try not to wear out my welcome though."

"Don't you ever go see your folks and stay with them?"

Arthur only gave Eames a passing glance as he opened the refrigerator to get the non-dairy creamer. "I prefer to stay as far from home as possible."

"Is that so? Why?"

Arthur poured coffee into a red mug. "I don't remember signing up for an interrogation."

"I'm just wondering."

Arthur looked at Eames for a moment, pursed his hips, shrugged, and then said, "My mother had an affair with another man and left me with her husband when she ran off with him. You can imagine why the man I called father wasn't too fond of me." He savored the scent of his beverage before sipping at it.

"Sounds like your father and mine should go out to the pub together."

"Maybe," Arthur replied, deadpan as always.

"So, you like being here because you feel at home here?"

"I don't feel at home anywhere else _but_ here."

* * *

_Arthur babysat Phillipa and James one night, while Cobb had gone out. Phillipa didn't know, but Arthur was sure that Cobb was going to announce his going back to work any day now. He knew how dream work always pulled a person back in, and Cobb was no exception._

_She brought in coloring books and set them on the coffee table. "Would you like to color with us, Mr. Arthur?"_

_She was gleeful when he decided to do so._

_James was wild with crayons, and Phillipa enjoyed using colors that she liked rather than the colors that were used for the characters. Arthur, however, was as precise with his coloring as he was with everything else. He colored Scooby Doo characters exactly as they were portrayed on television._

_"Do you like Scooby Doo?" Phillipa asked him._

_"I did when I was little, even though I usually solved the mysteries within the first five minutes of the episode."_

_"Scooby Doo was on TV when you were little?"_

_Arthur laughed, and he had the most wonderful laugh, deep and rich and warm like his coffee. If it had a smell, she was sure it would smell like coffee._

_"Scooby Doo has been on television since 1969."_

_"That's a really long time."_

_"It seems like a lot less time the older you get."_

_"Who's your favorite on Scooby Doo?"_

_"Um…" he thought about it. "I guess I always liked Velma because she was smart. Scooby too, of course."_

_"I like Scooby best!" James exclaimed._

_"I like Daphne because she's pretty," Phillipa said._

_He smiled._

_She'd seen his smile so many times now, but it felt like the first time every time. "Mr. Arthur…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Can I take your picture?"_

_"I don't like getting my picture taken."_

_"Please?"_

_"All right." He seemed to have forgotten that she'd already done this before. She didn't tell him that she already had plenty of pictures of him, some of them with him smiling even, but she liked having a few pictures with him looking at the camera._

_He had great eyes, after all._

* * *

Cobb had to go Christmas shopping, so everyone got the day off. James had wanted to help, so Cobb took him along, knowing that James's attention span was just low enough for him to sneak his presents past him without him ever knowing.

Eames was lounging on the couch in his boxers and pink button-down, feet propped up on the coffee table, and Ariadne was curled up in an arm chair with a cup of cocoa. Both of them were watching Saturday morning cartoons because they couldn't decide on anything else ("There is no chance in hell that I'm going to watch _Gossip Girl_ ," Eames had said, and Ariadne had rightly refused to watch anything on MTV).

"Hey," she said.

"What?"

"Where's Arthur?"

"Do you think he could be with Phillipa?"

"We could be missing the smile…"

Both of them jumped to their feet and took the steps two at a time.

They found Arthur still in his bed, beating his alarm clock. He turned to the door, bleary-eyed, and saw them there, staring.

"What?" he asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Nothing," they replied, turning away quickly and going back to their cartoons. Arthur went back to sleep.

As Ariadne and Eames descended the stairs, Ariadne sighed. "I think you and I might just be a little obsessed."

"Ugh, I know, but it's haunting me. I even went under and tried to forge it, but I can't forge something I don't know."

"Hello."

Both of them jumped, shouting.

Phillipa stared at them in confusion, standing in the kitchen doorway in her Disney pajamas, hair plaited down each shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," they repeated again.

Phillipa shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Could one of you make me some breakfast?"

* * *

_Arthur couldn't cook, no matter how hard he tried. He would swear up and down that he followed the directions exactly, and yet the food always ended up burned._

_"Cooking isn't as simple as following directions," Cobb had explained to him. "It's an art. It takes finesse."_

_"Keep talking like that, and I'll start to think that you're Eames forging as Cobb." His voice was biting and unpleasant, but it was only because he was frustrated. "If the directions say to cook it for twenty minutes, then it should cook for twenty minutes."_

_Cobb checked the box. "That's twenty seconds."_

_Phillipa couldn't help but break out in a grin when she saw Arthur turn red all the way across his nose, right to the tips of his ears. She thought that it was the cutest thing she'd seen, and she was glad she had her camera with her to catch it on film._

_Both of them looked when the camera flashed, but she was gone before either of them knew she was there._

* * *

Eames was an amazing cook, and a show-off at that. He could flip pancakes with a flair that neither of the girls had ever seen, and Phillipa even applauded. It didn't make him look any less ridiculous with the frilly apron on.

"Where'd you learn to flip pancakes, Mr. Eames?" Phillipa asked.

"Ah, see, my dear Phillipa, I could tell you that, but I'd certainly need some information in return."

He placed the finished pancakes on a plate with the others and went back to finishing frying the bacon.

"Okay. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but only one thing."

"All right," Eames flashed her his million-dollar smile. "I learned how to flip pancakes from a cooking show. I taught myself all the tricks in order to impress a girl."

"Did it work?" Ariadne found herself asking.

"Of course it did," Eames laughed. "Aren't you impressed as well?"

"Admittedly, yes," Ariadne said.

"Yes, she quite liked watching me cook breakfast for her… Her boyfriend didn't like it so much though."

"Why? Did you not make enough for him?" Phillipa asked, so innocent.

"I didn't know he was coming, so no," Eames chuckled. "Now… what is it that I want to know about you?"

He set the pancakes and bacon on the table, grabbed a plate and caught the toast just it popped up, placing it on the plate. Phillipa giggled, then gasped. "These pancakes have chocolate chips in them!"

"I had a feeling you'd like that. Now… about what I want to know… Tell me more about why you like Arthur."

She smiled through a mouthful of pancakes and swallowed. "Well… it's hard to explain. Mr. Arthur is the best person in the world. He's smart, and he's nice, and he likes the color red, and he like Scooby Doo, and he's really, really cute."

"You said you liked his smile. When did you see him smile? What makes him smile?"

"I said I'd only answer one thing," she responded, beaming.

"You ruined our chances, Eames," Ariadne grumbled, glaring at him.

Eames just laughed. "You're too smart for your own good, Phillipa."

Arthur came in for breakfast then, dazed and still sleepy, so the conversation ended for the moment. He didn't eat much, particularly disturbed by the way Eames and Ariadne were watching him.

* * *

_Arthur helped Cobb fix his car one day during the summer. Phillipa listened from her spot in the driveway, where she was drawing with sidewalk chalk, while Queen's "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" played over the radio._

_Arthur knew every word, and even though he sang quietly, he was wonderful. She swooned and drew hearts all over the driveway._


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

_Phillipa painted Arthur with his bouquet of daisies in her art class. The teacher was so proud of it that she put it up on the wall before all of the other paintings. Phillipa was just happy that she got to draw him, even though the curved 'C' shape didn't accurately show his smile._

_"So, who is the boy in your picture?" the teacher, Mrs. Wylie asked her._

_Phillipa just smiled. "The best boy in the whole world."_

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Arthur," Phillipa greeted, peeking in the doorway of his room. Arthur was tying his shoes and still smelled like the shower.

"Oh," he responded with a slight jump, "hello."

"Did you have a nice bath?"

"Y-yes."

She twisted side to side, hands grasped together behind her back. "That's good… um… will you…"

He gave her his full attention, placing a hand on his knee. "What's up?"

"Will you come and play with me?" she asked, blushing. "Please? Since James is taking a nap, I don't have anyone to play with."

Arthur seemed vexed by the idea that James was napping but a check of his watch reminded him that he'd slept until eleven that morning because it was nearly noon. "You didn't ask Eames or Ariadne?"

"I'd much rather you play with me, Mr. Arthur."

He sighed, clambering to his feet. She marveled over the way the light caught on his shoes.

"Okay. What do you want to play?"

She took his hand in hers, her fingers not nearly reaching around his palm, and dragged him down the hallway to her bedroom. "Come on!"

"What are we doing?" he asked.

He looked so completely out of place in the little girl's room while she fiddled with what looked like a stereo in front of her television set. The door was left open only a crack. Out of habit he checked for exits, and when he looked back at Phillipa, he couldn't help but crack a grin.

Phillipa was in large, star-shaped sunglasses, and a pink feather boa.

"Are you a movie star?" he asked.

"Nope! I'm a pop star!"

"Does that mean I'm your entourage? Security?"

She tilted her head. "I don't know what entarrige means, but right now you're audience."

"Oh, okay," he nodded, sitting down on her bed and folding his hands in his lap.

She paused, staring back at what he had discovered was her karaoke machine. "Hmm… Mr. Arthur? Will you announce me?"

"Of course."

She began sitting all of her stuffed animals on the side of her bed, facing towards her imaginary stage, and Arthur held the microphone in his long fingers. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

She glanced back at him, grinning with all of her little white teeth. "I don't know."

He pondered it for a moment, and she observed the wrinkles in his forehead when he raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Are you ready?"

She ran into the closet, hiding behind her clothes that were being used as makeshift curtains. "Mm-hmm!"

And Arthur couldn't help himself, her excitement and fun-loving nature quite contagious. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, put your hands together for the one, the only Phillipa Cobb!" He even applauded for her.

She parted the clothes and strutted out when the music began, and Arthur put aside one of her stuffed dogs to sit on the bed. She jumped into a Taylor Swift song, overdramatically throwing her hand in the air or pointing to 'crowd members' and dancing.

He clapped and hooted when she finished the song, and she bowed several times.

"Ow!" Ariadne hissed. "Your foot is on my hand!"

"Sorry, love."

Cobb exited James's bedroom to find two co-workers hunched by Phillipa's bedroom door, peeking inside the crack. Ariadne was between Eames's legs, and they looked rather ridiculous.

"What are you doing?" Cobb asked.

"Shhhh!" They both shushed him.

Cobb through his hands up in defeat and continued down the hall. "Sorry. Excuse me why I go and do something productive."

"Have fun with that," Ariadne mumbled. "God… that's so cute."

"I can't see his face though," Eames complained.

Phillipa skipped over to Arthur and put her boa around his neck. "Now, you be the pop star, and I'll be the audience, and then it'll be my turn again."

"Oh. No, I don't think-"

She grabbed him by both hands, pulling him to his feet. "It'll be fun! It's so much fun, Mr. Arthur!"

"I'm not much of a singer," he said nervously.

"Sure you are! Come on, please?"

"Oh… I don't know… I don't even know if there are any songs on here that I know."

"There's a billion songs on there!"

Arthur gave her a sideways glance and smirk as he started sifting through titles, knowing there was no way to get out of it without her crying. "I can _not_ believe I'm doing this."

"I can't really hear what's going on," Eames said.

"I think Arthur's gonna sing!" Ariadne said, excitement noticeably lacing her voice.

"What? Does he even know what music is?"

Arthur nodded as he made his decision and turned around. "Okay. Are you ready?"

She plopped down in the spot he had been previously occupying. "Yes. If you get nervous, just close your eyes."

Arthur sighed. "I'll do my best."

He pressed the button on the machine and didn't make a show out of it like she did, though she still applauded.

"I've got to get this on my phone," Ariadne mumbled, digging her cell phone out of her pocket. Eames already had his cell out.

"He actually does know what music is," Eames mumbled.

"That's the Beatles, isn't it?" Ariadne asked.

"Here comes the sun, doo-n-doo-doo, Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right," he sang quietly into the microphone.

Phillipa clasped her hands together, and her eyes were lit with stars while she watched, and Ariadne had to bite back a squeal. "I swear to God, this little girl is going to make me want kids…"

"Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years, since it's been here. Here comes the sun doo-n-doo-doo, here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right," he continued singing, and he closed his eyes because he was quite nervous.

Phillipa pulled out her new digital camera and snapped a picture when he wasn't looking.

Ariadne and Eames exchanged glances.

"Little darling, the smiles' returning to their faces," he turned to her, extending a hand, and she took it, hopping into his arms to sing with him. "Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here."

"Here comes the sun," they sang together. "Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right."

* * *

_"Mr. Arthur?"_

_He looked up from the paperwork he had sprawled across the kitchen table, cigarette dangling between his fingers, and he quickly hid it behind his back. "Phillipa, what are you doing up so late? It's almost two in the morning."_

_"I had a bad dream."_

_"O-oh… well… do you want to tell me what it was about?"_

_She pretended not to see him put his cigarette out in a soda can. "It was about Mommy."_

_Arthur's shoulders slumped. "Oh."_

_She crawled up into a chair, hugging her knees. "I dreamed that she was standing in my bedroom doorway, and when I called out to her, she turned and walked away, and I chased after her, but I couldn't find her. She was gone."_

_He stroked the top of her head. "It was only a dream."_

_"Yeah…" she mumbled into her knees. "Except that it wasn't."_

_His eyebrows drooped the way of his shoulders. "Phillipa…"_

_She looked up at him, big green eyes filled with tears, and her mouth curved into a hard frown. "Why did she have to go?"_

_He stroked her cheek. "I can't answer that."_

_She whimpered and sobbed, and he wiped her tears away awkwardly._

_"Hey, hey," he whispered and cupped her face so that she would look at him. "She wouldn't want you to be sad, would she?"_

_"N-no…" She hiccupped._

_"Your dad would want to see you smile too, right?"_

_She nodded weakly._

_"I know it hurts, and it's okay to feel sad, but don't let it paralyze you, okay? Things are going to be okay. Your dad is home, and he loves you and cares about you, and nothing is going to change that. You're smart and mature and sweet, and things are going to go right for you, and you'll be so happy. I promise you that."_

_"Cross your heart?"_

_"Cross my heart."_

_She hugged him, and he squeezed her back without hesitation this time. "It's okay. We all miss her," he told her._

_Regardless, she couldn't bring herself to go back into her room that night, so he let her sleep in his, and he slept on the floor._

* * *

"What do you suppose she was doing with that photograph?" Eames asked Ariadne as she searched Phillipa's room. Phillipa and James had gone out with their father to see a movie.

"That's what I intend to find out. Help me find her camera."

"She probably took it with her. As far as I've noticed, she carries it with her everywhere."

"Do you think so?" she yelped when she hit her head on the bed she was looking under.  
"Why didn't you say anything when I started looking?"

Eames shrugged.

"Arthur's right. You are insufferable."

Eames smiled. "It's my pleasure, Ariadne."

She dove back underneath. "I did see something here… A-ha!" She reappeared with a photo album. "There must be a reason she has this stashed under here."

"I know why I stash things under my bed."

She rolled her eyes and placed the album on Phillipa's vanity table. "Let's see what we have here…" and she opened it.

"Well, blow me down…" Eames whispered. "That's Arthur!"

The first picture was of his nervous half-smile on the Christmas she'd received her camera. The glimmer of the lights on the tree reflected on his face. There were several more rather blurry photos of him, fixing coffee, reading…

Ariadne giggled at the picture of him sleeping, arm hanging off the side of the bed, mouth lolling open. "He drools when he sleeps. Who knew?"

"She's got quite an extensive collection here," Eames mentioned as Ariadne turned the page.

Both of them gasped audibly.

Face turned at a three-quarter view towards James, he was… smiling.

"Wow," was all Ariadne could say. "I… wow."

"No wonder he never smiles! You don't smile like that at anything."

"You could swim in his dimples!"

"I know!"

"He looks like an angel!"

"I _know_!"

Almost regretfully she turned the page and found yet another picture of him sleeping, this time against the couch. There were more shots of him, one in particular of him red in the face over what appeared to be a burnt meal.

She had not caught him smiling again, at least not in clear photos.

Ariadne closed the book when she came to the first empty page. "I almost wish we didn't have to stop this crush."

"Admittedly, if she had been an adult, this would be creepy."

Ariadne laughed and stashed the book again. "I think I'm beginning to see why…"

"…she loves him so much…" Eames finished for her.

They both sighed.

"We have to tell Cobb about this," Ariadne said.

"Cobb? We should tell Arthur about this."

"Tell Arthur about what?"

They both jumped.

Arthur stood in the doorway, eyebrow cocked. "What are you guys doing in here?"

"Nothing!" they both cried.

"You know, I keep hearing that a lot, and for some reason, I'm finding it harder and harder to believe. I'm assuming you're 'researching,' correct?"

They both grinned rather sheepishly.

"We're trying to assist with your little problem with Phillipa, yes," Eames assured him.

"So… it's information that can't be shared with me for some reason?"

"I didn't say that," Eames said, looking at Ariadne.

"You were the one who wanted to tell him," Ariadne said right back.

They both looked at Arthur.

"Well…?" he asked.

There were sounds coming from downstairs, and within a few minutes, Phillipa appeared, chattering excitedly about the movie she'd just seen. "Hey… why are all you guys in my room?" she asked.

"Yeah, why are we?" Arthur asked, staring at the guilty party.

"We're…" Ariadne stammered. "We're uh…"

"Playing hide and seek," Eames decided. "We hadn't really started yet, but Arthur said that your room would be the perfect base."

"I- what?" Arthur stammered.

"Can I play too?" she asked.

"Of course you can!" Eames laughed. "You're it!"

And he bolted from the room.

Arthur stared at Ariadne for a moment, and she looked just as desperate and confused, but when Phillipa leaned up against her dresser and started counting, they both bolted for the door as well.

* * *

_One time, Arthur fell asleep on the couch, and Phillipa saw that, where his shirt had rolled up, he had a tattoo on his back. It was in some other language that she didn't understand, but when he awoke, she asked him about it._

_He blushed and smiled a bit in embarrassment. "Oh, that… I got that at a party in Russia when I was studying abroad. It's a Russian saying pronounced "Avos' da kak-nubud' do dobra ne dovedut" and means "Maybe and somehow won't make any good". It's a word of advice to not rely on chance."_

_"Why is it bad to rely on chance?"_

_"Admittedly… I've discovered it's not always a bad thing, but back when I got it, I didn't think that way… Well, when I got it, I wasn't thinking much of anything…"_

_"What's that mean?"_

_"I'll… tell you when you're older."_

_She smiled at him, and he smiled back, not even realizing that he did. She was charmed beyond belief over that she could get a smile out of him without working hard._


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

"Um… Eames?" Cobb asked. "Why… are you in my pantry?"

Eames grinned sheepishly. "I'm hiding."

"From what?"

"Phillipa. It's part of the game."

"…Okay… did you guys accomplish _any_ work while I was gone?"

"Of course we did. Don't take us for amateurs, Cobb."

Cobb gave him a long, squinty glare.

"Just shut the door," Eames said. "And don't tell her I'm here."

Cobb just sighed, grabbed a box of crackers, and shut the pantry door.

As he entered the living room, he spotted Ariadne squeezing herself behind the couch.

"I assume you're playing as well?" Cobb asked.

Ariadne popped up, blushed, and ducked back down. "She'll be down any second. Don't tell her I'm here."

"Can I just point out to you guys that you're adults?"

"Don't pretend that you don't play with your kids, Cobb. It's Eames's fault."

It was just like Ariadne to make an accusation and then explain whose fault it was. "Fine. I won't say anything."

Phillipa appeared at the bottom of the stairs just as Cobb took a seat in his armchair with his crackers.

"Did anybody come through here?" she asked him.

Cobb shrugged, and she continued on her way. As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Cobb was surprised to see the hall closet door open and Arthur step out as quietly as possible.

"Really?" Cobb said flatly.

"Shh!" Arthur shushed and started climbing the stairs.

"You're not going to get to base before me!" Ariadne complained, but realized quite quickly that she had quite a struggle before her in getting out from behind the couch. "Damn it."

"Do you need some help?" Cobb asked.

"Shut up, Cobb!"

Arthur was gone. Ariadne was displeased. She struggled for a moment more before sighing and saying, "Okay, are you going to help me or not?"

"Sure," Cobb said and grabbed her by her ankles and pulled. Nothing. "You're stuck in there pretty good."

"Make one comment about my weight, and you'll have _my_ foot in _your_ mouth."

"I didn't say anything like that." He tugged again, and she slid a little, and by his third tug, she was free; hair frizzy, clothes rumpled, but free.

"Don't," she commanded, noticing how he was chewing on his lower lip to keep from laughing at her.

"Better hurry," Cobb said.

As if remembering what she was doing, Ariadne ran for the stairs and tripped on the third one up.

"You okay?" Cobb called after her.

"SHUT UP, COBB!"

A moment later Phillipa skipped by, Eames trailing behind her. "I had no idea you took prisoners in hide and seek," he mumbled, "but apparently I'm it now."

Cobb shook his head.

* * *

Eames counted, and the others dispersed. Ariadne made sure not to hide behind any furniture this time and instead hid in Cobb's master bathroom shower.

Arthur found himself in the laundry room and settled in between the shelf of detergents and fabric softener and folded clothes, safely hidden from the doorway from behind a pile of unwashed clothes.

He discovered he was not alone when said pile of unwashed clothes moved. "Mr. Arthur!" Phillipa whispered excitedly from beneath her mountain of clothes.

"Oh… sorry. I didn't know you were hiding here."

"It's okay. I don't mind."

They sat awkwardly for a moment.

Phillipa watched his profile, pointy and serious, skin smooth over his cheekbones, and dark eyes staring on for eons. His lips were slightly chapped, and his teeth were slightly yellowed from tobacco use. Not one hair was out of place, as usual. She also thought that he had the cutest ears.

She dug her camera out from the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt (red, of course), aimed it, and took the picture.

He noticed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, though not unkindly, just curiously.

She flushed. "I was just taking your picture. I like taking pictures of you, Mr. Arthur."

"I don't think-"

"You do look good in pictures, Mr. Arthur. You're handsomer than you think you are."

"I believe the term is 'more handsome', Phillipa… but… thanks, I guess."

"Well, you are. I think that you're the most handsomest person in the whole world."

"You haven't seen a lot of the world yet," he mumbled, blushing in spite of himself.

"I know… but I think even if I did, I'd still think you were."

And he cracked that smile again. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because because."

He laughed. "Because because why?"

"Because because… I love you."

They stared at each other for a moment before she fell into a fit of giggles and buried herself beneath the clothes.

Arthur had been regretting this, waiting for her to come out and admit her feelings… he'd been so concerned about how he was going to go about it, doing whatever she could to not break her heart and at the same time not end up being her boyfriend. He had dreaded those three syllables more than anything.

Until now…

…when all he could think was that no one had ever said that to him before.

"What's wrong?"

He turned slowly, seeing only her eyes peeking out from her hiding place. Big green orbs were staring at him with worry.

"Oh… nothing… It's just-"

"You… don't like me like I like you… do you…"

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, anything, though he wasn't sure what it was, but just then the laundry room door opened, and instead he ducked down, silent. All he could see was Phillipa's eyes, big and green and teary.

He felt like the worst person on the planet (the worst in the universe if there were people on other planets).

"You're not very good at hiding, are you, darling?" Eames asked, hovering over Arthur who had failed to even notice him.

Arthur stood. "I don't want to play anymore," he mumbled and walked out.

Eames was about to protest that a person couldn't just quit the game because he was found, but he changed his mind when he heard a whimper underneath a pile of clothes.

* * *

"Okay," Ariadne huffed. "I have been standing in that shower for over an hour. Where is everybody?"

Cobb was still in his armchair, but looking remarkably less jovial. She discovered Arthur sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and Eames slouched next to him, looking just as miserable.

"…What happened?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm the absolute worst person to ever exist," Arthur replied back glumly.

"Where's Phillipa?" she asked immediately.

"Up in her room… crying…" Eames explained. "She locked the door, so no one can get inside."

"What did you say?" she asked Arthur and immediately regretted it.

He looked up at her, sullen faced. "I didn't… say… _anything_. God, I should have said something."

Even Eames couldn't tease him when he looked so pitiful and instead put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"So she wouldn't let any of you guys in?" Ariadne asked.

"No," Cobb replied miserably.

Ariadne sighed. "Well, I'll give it a shot."

* * *

Ariadne knocked on Phillipa's door. "Hello? Phillipa? It's me, Ariadne."

"Go away!" came the muffled, brokenhearted reply.

"Look… I know it hurts… won't you just talk to me? Girl to girl?"

There was a long moment, and Ariadne thought she wasn't going to respond, but then the door opened a crack. "What do you want?" Phillipa asked, bleary eyed and red faced.

"Can I come in?"

Phillipa hesitated but then nodded and opened the door for her. "Only because you're a girl…" she sniffled. "I never want to see another boy ever again."

"Oh, you don't mean that," Ariadne cooed, taking a seat on Phillipa's bed and pulling the girl up next to her. She couldn't help but think about what Eames had said about Phillipa being raised as a lesbian.

"I do mean it! He doesn't like me!"

"Did he say that?" Ariadne asked, smoothing the girl's hair behind her ears.

"Well… no… Do you think that he likes me?"

Ariadne almost crumbled then but swallowed and said, "I think that Arthur likes you very much, but… it might be better for you to talk to him so you can understand how your relationship is… defined."

Phillipa wiped her cheeks with her wrists. "I guess so… but… I don't want to. What if he doesn't like me at all? What if he thinks I'm annoying and stupid? What if…" Her eyes welled with tears. "What if he decides to go away and never come back like Mommy did?"

Ariadne's eyes welled with tears as well, and she hugged her. "That's not going to happen. I promise that's not going to happen."

"When Mr. Arthur says things, I always believe them."

"Then when you talk to him, you know he'll tell you the truth."

The two girls pulled apart, and Ariadne dabbed Phillipa's tears with her scarf. "What you should do," she told Phillipa, "is figure out what it is you want to say. Think really hard about it, and when you're sure you know what you want to say, then go to him and tell him."

Phillipa sniffed. "Okay."

"You gonna be okay?" Ariadne asked.

"…I don't know…"

"I think you will… I hope you will…" Ariadne gave her another hug. "I'll tell Arthur to be waiting for you, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

Arthur squirmed where he sat on the side of his bed, laid down, sat back up, paced the room, sat back down. Ariadne had talked to Phillipa nearly an hour ago. He was worried and afraid and nauseous and all kinds of different horrible feelings. If she were to hate him, he would never forgive himself, and he would never be able to come back to the house he'd come to call home.

He was well-prepared to wallow in self-pity when there was a small knock on his bedroom door.

Arthur tensed. "C-come in," he said, and his voice cracked from the nerves.

The door inched open, and Phillipa slipped inside before quietly shutting it behind her. Her eyes were still red.

Arthur felt that slamming his head through a glass window would be quite appropriate at that moment. He actually felt that he deserved to be run through a wood chipper.

"Mr. Arthur… can I talk to you?"

"Of course."

She crawled up onto the bed and took a seat next to him. "I'm gonna be completely serious, okay?" He noticed she was carrying a book with her.

He nodded. "Okay. I will be too."

She paused, mulling it over. "Okay… um… I love you… I mean, I already told you that, but… I don't think that you love me."

"I… I wouldn't say that," Arthur replied.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes squinting curiously in a way only a Cobb could do. "You don't love me like I love you."

He sighed. "Look, Phillipa… I… I care about you a lot. I would go so far as to say that I do, I _do_ love you, but there are… lots of different kinds of love. We all have people that we love, and we love them in different ways."

She nodded. "That's true."

"So… um…" he wrung his hands. "I love you very much, Phillipa, but I love you in the same way that your father loves you, in the way James loves you, the way your Mom… loves you…" He took in a deep breath and stroked the top of her head. "You guys are my family."

"Really? But what about your real family?"

"You _are_ my real family."

She gave a weak smile. "I… feel like I love you very much, Mr. Arthur, but now I don't know what kind of love I feel."

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, it's complicated. I mean, you're so young, so it must be even more confusing… though you're very smart for you age, so maybe not… No, you probably are… Are you?"

She grinned a little. "You're so cute, Mr. Arthur."

He petted her head again. "Look… can I tell you something about myself?" She nodded. "Well, let's see… when I was in high school, I was in love with this girl… Hannah Jamison. She was the prettiest girl in school, and all the guys liked her, but because we sat next to each other in math, and I helped her out, I thought we had something really special. I asked her to go with me to prom and… she turned me down. I was so disappointed, and I felt probably a lot like how you're feeling right now, but the day before prom, when I was down in the dumps and feeling sorry for myself, this one girl, Colleen Hicks, told me that she wanted to go to the dance with me."

"Did you fall in love with her?"

"I'd like to say that I did, but I didn't. She didn't love me romantically either, but because she thought I was a nice person, she wanted to cheer me up. We were best friends for years, and I still call her on occasion when I can… Um… I know there was a moral here. What I'm saying is that you shouldn't dwell on any pain in your heart. Things might feel bad, and to feel bad is a good thing because it reminds you that you're still human… but… everything gets better. Love… It's not something that comes once in a lifetime. Otherwise, we would have one person for the entirety of our lives. Do you understand?"

"…Sort of… So… even if you won't be my boyfriend, I can still tell you that I love you, right?"

He smiled. "Of course you can."

"But… you're not like a boyfriend at all. You're more like a big brother."

"If you'd like to think of me as such, I'd be honored."

She smiled. "Okay. Can I say something?"

"Fire away."

"Mr. Arthur… You're special to me. You're specialer… more special than any of my friends at school. I have all of your secrets, you know. I know that you smoke cigarettes, and I know that you sing when you work on stuff but only when no one's around, and I know you're afraid of the thunder, and I know- I know that you like to smell your coffee before you drink it, and I know that you laugh like coffee, and I know what your smile looks like. I know your favorite color is red, and I know that you can't cook, but you want to, and I know you like to sleep late because you work so hard, and I know that you drool when you sleep… and I know that, when things are really hard, and I'm really sad, that I can count on you to always be there to be that person I can cry on without worrying that you're gonna break down like Daddy did. I always know that you're gonna come back. I always know… I always know that you keep your promises. You're… the best boy in the whole world."

"You think far too highly of me. How do you know all this stuff?"

"I collected your secrets," she told him, "and I suppose that… if I'm gonna be able to fall in love with someone else, I should give them back to you." She handed him the book.

He opened it and touched the pages tenderly. "You took all of these pictures of me?"

"Yes. Whenever you and Daddy were gone, I would look at them, and I wouldn't feel lonely. You're my best friend, Mr. Arthur."

He figured if he said anything, he would burst into some very un-masculine tears, and so he said nothing.

"So, if you can't be my boyfriend, I want you to still be my best friend. Please don't ever go away and not come back."

"I won't," he said quietly and pressed a finger to her nose. "I promise."

"And maybe… could you… just be my boyfriend for a second? Just one?"

He stared, confused. "I… suppose I could-"

She jumped up, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "I think I'll be okay now. Oh…" She opened the album again, to the picture of him smiling. "Can I keep this one?"

He smiled. "You can take a new one of me if you like. You can keep it in this album."

"But… I thought I should give it to you."

"I think it'd be better if you hung onto it," he said, handing it back to her, "as my official secret keeper."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up like stars.

He kissed her forehead. "Yes."

* * *

Phillipa left his room all smiles, tossing a casual hello back at Ariadne, Eames, and Cobb, who were all listening in through the door. Arthur leaned against the door jam, looking down at the three hunched figures. "Really?" he said flatly. "Really."

"They dragged me into it," Cobb said.

"Don't blame us," Eames complained.

"Just admit it that you were as curious as we were!" Ariadne elbowed Cobb.

"Wanker," Eames tacked on at the end.

Arthur huffed, and the three of them noticed that it sounded a lot like a snicker. Three sets of eyes turned to Arthur to see… him _smiling_. "You guys are idiots," he said.

"Oh, my God…" Ariadne gasped. "Pictures don't do justice."

"I know," Eames added, equally stunned.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"So beautiful, I could cry," Eames whispered, though admittedly he appeared to be teasing him at this point.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I hate you guys."

"We love you too, darling!" Eames called after him, and he couldn't help but smile because he knew it was true.

* * *

The job went off without a hitch, surprisingly enough, and so did Christmas. Eames thought it would be funny to buy Arthur a bunch of Playgirl magazines, and that nearly turned into a fist fight, but otherwise, everything went remarkably well. By the time school was in session again, Cobb started hearing about this boy, Trevor, all the time. Trevor was her age. It was relieving.

The foursome was working together again before long, and Cobb only had one wish.

Sometimes, he wished that his co-workers would shut the hell up about his kids.


End file.
